Better than Nothing
by Dustbunny3
Summary: [Lost Light][One-shot][Anode/Lug] Lug's not happy after their last venture, but Anode knows just what to say to bring her around.


A/N: Not exactly what I sat down to write to begin with, but I still like it! I'm really taken with this ship already, so I wanted to do something with them before canon potentially disappoints me on a certain front.

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Honestly, Anode should've realized earlier than she did– she didn't make it this far as an adventuring archaeologist based purely on her luck. Largely, perhaps, but by no means purely. Yet they're five minutes past takeoff with only her own excited chatter and a worrying, ongoing knock in the engines of their small craft filling the air around her before she notices something is amiss.

"Lug," she says, looking over her shoulder to confirm her suspicion.

She's met with a full-vent huff and a static whine that she might've thought came from the engine block if she hadn't felt it tickle her spinal strut. She's met, that is to say, with the confirmation that she was looking for. Chalk another one up for Anode the Adventurer.

Putting the ship on autopilot– hoping that the autopilot, at least, works the way it should– she eases out of her chair to give Lug room to transform. After a moment of no response, she rolls her shoulders and flicks her wings. Lug stays stubbornly where she is, silent as one would expect a backpack to be.

"Oh, come on now," Anode cajoles, wiggling her wings the way she knows tickles the transformation seams on Lug's sides. "You can't _still_ be cross with me!"

Lug forgets her silent treatment just long enough to snort. She shifts ever so slightly on Anode's back, just enough to pinch at Anode's shoulder joints. Without words, she says perfectly well, "Care to make it a wager?"

"You can't," Anode insists. "I'm speaking literally here, you know– you simply can _not_ still be cross. We survived, didn't we?"

That does it– or at least begins it. Lug squeaks like an indignant retrorat– Anode has scattered enough of the creatures to be able to say so with authority, whatever Lug has to say about it– and launches herself from Anode's back to somersault through her transformation. She spins on her heel when she lands, planting her feet wide and her balled hands on her hips.

"We _survived_ – that's all you have to say about it?" she demands.

Anode considers this for a moment and says, "We survived thanks to some pretty fancy maneuvering on my part, even if you are making me say so myself."

Lug opens her mouth only to snap it shut, teeth clicking and then grinding. She shakes her head, lets loose a scream that sounds as if it's being strangled underwater and turns again on her heel. Only once she's hunched her shoulders and crossed her arms does she let the words she's been chewing escape in a hiss that Anode _double-checks_ isn't actually coming from the engine block. Assuming the systems checks are in good working order– which is, admittedly, assuming a lot– they're safe.

"Speaking of fancy maneuvering," Anode goes on, trusting that Lug is a least fair enough to hear her plead her case, "that was a pretty good deal I managed to swing, wasn't it? Nearly _double_ what we'd expected! _And_ a ship, to boot."

"Nearly double of not much is still not much," Lug mutters, "which is still better than I can say for this… I don't know any words rude enough, so I'll just call it a ship."

A direct response– a good sign indeed, especially so early on.

"Not much is better than nothing," Anode chides, patting the ship's navigation console– carefully. "And it's cozy, if nothing else, isn't it? So, you're welcome."

Lug's complaints pile up on top of each other like an entire convoy of heavy-duty road transports all trying to take the same hairpin turn at once, mangled together into a single screeching, derisive sound. Honestly, Anode thinks that if Lug were more inclined to deal with clients, they could weaponize such sounds to great effect and greater returns. Alas!

"Would you rather try to make it to the next stop on our own power then?" Anode asks, daring to lean in to settle her hands on Lug's shoulders. When she isn't thrown off immediately, she ventures ever further, fingers soothing at the grooves there. "You have some space-worthiness you've been keeping from me?"

She gets silence in return, silence and a sharp turn of Lug's head when she tries to look around into her face. Rather than be discouraged, she nuzzles at the air beside Lug's audial, just shy of a physical touch. Time to pull out the big gun.

"That's what I thought– hence, a ship! Or close enough to one that we don't have to lose any of our monetary gains on paying for a ride, at least. And since we've cut _that_ little expense…"

Lug's shoulders twitch, not quite a refusal of the hands that have begin to knead at her favorite spots in earnest. No, Anode has walked this path before and she recognizes the signs. Lug does so hate to be wrong– never a good attitude when dealing with Anode, who is so often right that she's sometimes amazed that she's not hunted as treasure herself.

"Mmhmmm," Anode moves in on her hard-won ground, nuzzling her happy purr right into Lug's audial and relishing the shiver that echos her. "How long have you been fussing about getting more of those little petrol gel goodies, hm? The ones that leave your fingers sticky and probably do worse to your insides? And haven't I said just as long that we'll get some right as soon as we've got the shanix to spare?"

Lug's engine rumbles a discontented note, but Anode recognizes it as the cry of defeat that it is. Almost giddy with her victory, she nuzzles with more enthusiasm and slides her hands from Lug's shoulders around her neck in a loose embrace. Her elbows settle on Lug's shoulders instead and she plants her weight there with confidence.

"Well, now we've got the shanix to spare," she presses on. "And that'll be our first stop." After a bit of navigational fine-tuning. Anode may have had her promise in mind during negotiations, but she hadn't counted on having to honor it so quickly. Ah, the sacrifices she makes for Lug– all worth it, of course. A happy partner makes for a happy ship, as the saying goes, and now they've got a ship– or close enough– to make happy. Anode cranes her neck and manages, finally, to get a look at Lug's face, if only in profile. "So, what do you say– still cross?"

Lug turns, very slowly and only just enough that she can look Anode in the eye. Anode responds with a winning grin, waiting with utmost patience for Lug's official concession. Lug's tongue darts out across her lips, catching Anode's attention, so that she's reading the words off her lips even as they ring harsh in her audials.

"I was nearly swallowed whole by a flower because you misread a road sign. _Yes_ , I'm still cross."

All at once, Lug's not there anymore. Or perhaps it's more accurate to say that _Anode's_ not there anymore– as Lug folds down into her alt with record-breaking speed, Anode finds herself resting her weight on thin air. Thin air, as it turns out, is not suited to holding Anode's weight. She tumbles forward until she's caught face-first by the deck, which is– thankfully, whether or not she's inclined to think so at the moment– rather more suited to holding her weight.

Groaning, Anode pushes herself up on her hands and casts a glare back between them at the unassuming-looking backpack now framed between her knees. The innocent act is somewhat spoiled by the snickering that's not altogether covered by the various concerning noises of their little craft– and Anode clambers to her feet to hide a smile.

A laugh is a laugh, even if it is at Anode's expense. It's not terribly much as far as good signs go, she'll admit, but it's certainly better than nothing.


End file.
